


The Final Smack-Down

by scoradh



Category: Sky High (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-17
Updated: 2014-03-17
Packaged: 2018-01-16 02:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1327933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scoradh/pseuds/scoradh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superhero romances can be a super pain in the ass.</p><p>Written in August 2007.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Final Smack-Down

There was a boring pattern to Will and Layla's relationship. Warren, through no fault of his own, was forced to witness every twist and turn of it from a vantage point too close for comfort. Will would take Layla to Homecoming and Spring Fling and they'd kiss in midair. Meantime, they'd have dates in treehouses. Layla would try to convince Will to turn vegan, and Will would take her flying to drop waterbombs on people wearing fur. It was a perfect Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy romance, except for the Fights.  
  
The Fights happened every six months like clockwork, when Will would do, say or kiss something Layla didn't like. Will had a serious problem with infidelity. The hundreds of girls willing to throw themselves at his feet did not help the situation any. Warren could already see a wild look in Will's eye, one that said as soon as he was legal to drink and drive and save the world, no one would ever be able to tie him down again.   
  
Warren had thought about pointing out to Will that Layla was the closest to ideal Will was ever going to get - the girl had loved him when he had cooties and a runny nose, not to mention pimples and an indecided voicebox. Will was going to be a hugely famous superhero pretty soon, which did not genuine relationship potential make. The thing stopping Warren was not so much the fact that Will wouldn't heed him - Warren knew he wouldn't - but that Will actually seemed to _want_ the squealing groupies.   
  
If it hadn't been for the super strength and sonic speed, Will would have been a total geek. In fact, even with the super strength and sonic speed Will was kind of a geek. Will was planning to go all out to cover his geeky roots, whereas Layla was all for nourishing them with Nutra-Tab and cultivating them until Will was nothing else but geek all over. In the end Will's lingering self-hate would pound Layla's universally applicable acceptance into the dirt.  
  
Warren liked Layla well enough. The first time he'd met her, he'd been irresistibly reminded of a red setter puppy that had lived three doors down from him as a kid. Its curly ears hadn't been as well-groomed as Layla, but they shared the same pleading expression. Ordinarily this wouldn't have been enough to hold Warren's attention for long, but it had become clear early on that Layla could be devious enough when it suited her. This puppy wasn't above widdling in corners when walkies were denied her. Sweetness and fragility weren't high on Warren's list of attractive traits, but he had a healthy and probably inherited regard for cunning.  
  
The Fights would have sufficed as mild entertainment but for one thing. Warren liked fighting himself; what he didn't like was cleaning up after them. When he tore apart cafeterias in a fit of rage, or set a (now ex) girlfriend's lover's hair on fire in a bout of pique, he didn't have to mop floors or break out the scissors and comb afterwards. A four-year relationship was practically marriage in Warren's eyes. He felt it was beyond time for Will and Layla to have worked out a system for patching up fights _on their own_.  
  
But no; Warren was always dragged into the middle of it. First, Layla would come and cry on his shoulder, then flirt outrageously with him to annoy Will. As soon as this happened Will would be on his cell, demanding to know why Warren was macking on his girl. Previous experience taught them nothing about what to expect - to wit, Warren shrugging Layla off his shoulder, glaring down her fluttering eyes and hanging up on Will after informing him of his complete and utter interest in Layla as a sexual being.   
  
He was now experimenting with a different approach.  
  
"I saw you two in the hallway," whined Will, two months before graduation. "You were practically raping her with your eyes! Why does she always run to you whenever we have an argument? Why do you always let her?"  
  
"You're a dick," Warren informed him, and hung up.  
  
Two minutes later Will called back. His super strength worked against him when he was angry and trying to manipulate complicated machinery, like cell phone buttons. "Don't you think I have a right to be annoyed about this?"  
  
"Not really, no," said Warren, “considering you just cheated on Layla for the eighth time."  
  
"It was an accident." Will sounded defensive.  
  
"So you just sort of fell on top of Karen Waters, after her top spontaneously combusted and you were beating out the flames with her bra?"  
  
"I -"  
  
"And then you tripped and your tongue got stuck to her tonsils and you were trying to get it out?" continued Warren remorselessly.   
  
"You're supposed to be my friend!" said Will, aggrieved.  
  
"I am," said Warren. "And you're a dick." He hung up again. This time, Will did not call back.  
  
+_+_+  
  
Warren's favourite season was fall. It was the season of bonfires and crisp dead leaves just waiting to be set alight. Spring on the cusp of summer did nothing for him. Sky High was molten in the last weeks before summer break, as the sun - so much closer there than anywhere else on Earth - poured through every orifice in the building and did its best to fry the students to a crisp. Black was not the most sun-friendly colour and Warren's attire in general was designed more for emo Arctic explorers than the superhero equivalent of the OC.  
  
The heat made him grumpy and not at all inclined to sympathise with Will and Layla as their tiff dragged on into another week. It was their longest stand-off yet. Warren wished they'd taken a hint from Zack and Magenta, who'd broken up sophomore year after Zack tried to chart Magenta's no-man's land. High school wasn't the place for relationships; everything was too concentrated. People hadn't stopped saying 'Hard luck, man' to Zack for eight months. Warren felt he had the right idea, by taking whoever came and sticking mostly to gothy undergrads from the local university.   
  
Layla had dropped the flirting last Thursday, which was a relief to all concerned. She'd taken to having very serious and in-depth conversations with Ethan, who practically melted at the attention. Warren noticed the number of sprouts and beans on Ethan's caf trays had increased by a factorial of five - inversely proportional to the amount of hamburgers and other processed meats. Will stood a very good chance of losing Layla for real, this time.  
  
Will picked at his own meal - in which green was represented solely by the ketchup packet - on the opposite side of Warren from Layla. Warren could tell that they were ignoring each other, but it was more an uncomfortable than a resentful atmosphere. Layla and Ethan left early. Layla patted Will's shoulder in a curiously mother-like gesture on her way out.  
  
"You guys made up yet?" Warren asked, through a mouthful of meatloaf.  
  
"Yeah," said Will. "By breaking up."  
  
Warren choked. "You're kidding me."  
  
Will shook his head. Warren scowled as he processed the information. No matter what Will had done in the past, it had never precipitated a break-up. Not when everyone was practically screaming for them to take a break from each other did Will and Layla renounce their relationship status for even a day.   
  
"No joke," said Will, when it became clear that Warren had nothing more thoughtful to contribute. "We ... it hasn't been working for a while."  
  
"You don't have to tell me that," said Warren. "Serial monogamy is supposed to be just that - serial. Not co-existing."  
  
"You always take her side." Will's voice was tired. "I know cheating on Layla was wrong. I knew it every time I did it. But I'm not the only one at fault here."  
  
"Don't give me that bullshit," scoffed Warren. "You don't cheat on your girlfriend 'cause she doesn't put out. You've been reading from the Evil Overlord's Handbook by mistake."  
  
Will sent him an irritated look. "Layla's put out since we first got together. She gave me a blow-job the night we rescued the school from Royal Pain."  
  
"Now you have to be kidding me." Warren shuddered a little. Layla always seemed too wholesome for really dirty sex - when Warren imagined it, which he didn't unless circumstances forced him to, he always pictured a lights-off, 'be gentle with me,' cuddling for hours afterwards scenario. Never in his wildest nightmares did Warren imagine Layla would ever be coerced into giving head - let along doing it voluntarily at _fourteen_. "So, like, you have the perfect relationship. Or you had."  
  
"Hardly." Will stuck his fork into his meatloaf with a viciousness that sent it right through the table. "I really hate vegetables, for one thing. And she always ... she always accused me of not _being_ there. Of imagining someone else while I was with her. Every time. So it got to a point where I got so mad I'd go and be with someone else, just to prove her right. And still, she wouldn't stop. She kept wanting to know who the person was that I was really in love with, because she didn't buy the one-night stands."  
  
"Wow," said Warren, "you really _are_ a dick. The honorable thing to do would have been to walk away. At least by the third or fourth time."  
  
"Layla wouldn't let me go until I told her who it was," said Will. "I kept telling her I didn't know what she was talking about. I guess this time she finally bought it."  
  
Warren looked at Will, who was fruitlessly trying to salvage what was left of his cutlery. His parents were already footing a massive bill for destroyed Sky High kitchenware. And he was lying.  
  
"You totally caved," said Warren. "If I gave a shit I'd go ask her who it was, but this is more important."  
  
"What is?" said Will, finally looking up. Which was when Warren punched him.  
  
+_+_+  
  
When Warren got out of detention - alone, because Will hadn't fought back, just lay there gasping like a dying fish - Principal Powers was waiting for him. So was his mom.  
  
"Oh god," groaned Warren, totally heartfelt.  
  
"You should be so lucky," hissed Mrs Peace. Her superpower was mind-reading, which had been extremely embarrassing when Warren was younger and suddenly possessed of the burning need to wash his sheets three times a week. "Two years without a detention and you get one for beating up on _Will Stronghold_? What's got into you?"  
  
Warren shrugged. "He needed some sense smacked into him."  
  
"Just like your father," said Mrs Peace in disgust.   
  
"I'll leave you to it, then, Agatha," said Principal Powers tactfully. The clack-clack of her osteopathic-goldmine shoes faded away. Mrs Peace glared at her son.  
  
"As a matter of fact, I'm not going to ream you out for this one," she said, "because it provides the perfect blackmail. Your father wants to see you."  
  
"I'm not -" said Warren, the knee-jerk reaction coming easy after all this time.  
  
"That was not. A question," said Mrs Peace. "Unless you like the idea of being grounded for the rest of your natural-born life, which includes losing your waitressing gig at the Paper Lantern."  
  
"It's not waitressing," said Warren automatically. But it was no use. He'd already lost.  
  
+_+_+  
  
The holding cell was cold. Gaol for super-villains was clearly not designed with creature comforts in mind; polar bears would have found it difficult to get comfy there. Warren thought longingly of the heat of Sky High, the heat he'd so despised a whole day ago.   
  
The clanking sound of iron manacles preceded his father into the room. Iron worked against superpowers in the same way it worked against magic; the two forces came from the same original source, after all. Two guards, dressed in powder-blue uniforms, entered and stood po-faced by the door.  
  
Warren was unprepared for the sight of his father. He'd seen pictures of Baron Battle in old newspapers and even a yearbook or two. He'd looked a lot like Warren, with shorter hair and more smiles. He'd been _charming_. Warren had worked hard all his life to be the exact opposite, and mostly succeeded - Will and Layla both saw through him to some extent.   
  
The stooped old man, looped and ringed in iron chains, was nothing like the Battle Warren thought he knew. The manacles had rubbed his wrists and ankles raw; he was barefoot on the icy floor, dressed only in a ragged robe that might once have been blue.  
  
"Hello, Warren," he croaked. Warren fought the urge to turn tail and run.   
  
"Father," he said instead.  
  
"It's been a long time," said Battle. Warren fought the urge to roll his eyes. "You have your mother's mouth, I see. Passionate."  
  
"Uh. Thanks?"  
  
Battle shuffled closer. He smelled as bad as he looked; comparisons to foetid cheese and cow manure floated through Warren's mind. The flash of dark eyes under the shaggy grey hair stopped them. There was nothing old or defeated about those eyes.  
  
"I read the papers sometimes, you know," he said. "Geneva Convention came in useful. I hear you're friends with William Stronghold."  
  
"Yeah," said Warren, cautiously, because he couldn't see his father being too happy about that.  
  
Battle laughed - or cackled, rather. Warren's fists clenched in surprise. "Good boy, good boy. Trying to bring down the enemy from within, eh? Tell you what, son," Battle moved even closer, gifting Warren with stale breath and a tap on the shoulder, "take it a step further. There's nothing like pillow-talk for divulging the opposition's deepest darkest secrets. At their weakest then, you know!"  
  
"I'm sorry," said Warren, "for a minute there it sounded like you were telling me to have sex with Will."  
  
"Yes - it's an ingenious plan. Trust me, I know." Battle tapped the side of his nose. Warren stared at him, torn between horror and pity -  
  
\- _and Will, drenched in sweat from a gruelling Save the Citizen match, wandering the locker room in a ragged old towel. Filled out a bit since he manifested his super-strength, smooth lines of muscles in his shoulders and back. "She gave me a blowjob." Will with his head thrown back, exposing the long white line of his throat; biting his lip as he twisted his hand in red curls. Will, naked, his legs spread invitingly_ -  
  
"What are you doing to me?" shouted Warren. Battle blinked.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"You - you infiltrated my mind!" Warren jabbed a shaky finger at his father. "Stop it right now!"  
  
"Are you confusing me with Agatha?" asked Battle. "I can't do mental manipulation."  
  
"I'm going now," said Warren. He pushed past his father in a flurry of metallica, dashed out past the guards. He was halfway to the exit when he saw another prison officer. "Hey," he said, "is there a ... restroom around here I could use?"  
  
+_+_+  
  
Warren was brooding in his bedroom when his mother opened the door and let Will inside. Warren fell off the bed.   
  
Over Will's shoulder, Mrs Peace raised her eyebrows at her son. "Get off the floor, Warren," she said. "Is that anyway to welcome a guest? Will and I have been having such a nice chat while you were up here sulking."  
  
"Oh god, about what?"  
  
"I'll bring you some snacks later," said Mrs Peace smoothly. "Maybe a good while later."  
  
"What - Mom -"  
  
"Calm down, I'm not here to re-start the fisticuffs," said Will. He sat down on Warren's desk chair, back to front. "So you went to see your dad, huh?"  
  
"I don't want to talk about it." Warren hunched up against the bed. He decided the floor was a nice place to be; there was the option of sinking through it in shame and everything.  
  
"Okay," said Will. He drummed his fingers on the chair back. Warren found himself trapped into watching the movement, imagining far too many other things they could be doing.  
  
His mother had read his mind as soon as he walked through the door the day before. Her reassurances that Battle couldn't have planted lust for Will in his mind were negated by her thoughtful remark about how it had to have been there all along.  
  
Warren did _not_ lust after Will. Okay, maybe he wasn't entirely straight; maybe he'd gone down on his knees for some of those fratboys. But they'd been hot and Warren wasn't ashamed of it and guys did give better head - he'd got enough reciprocal action to know. But he would swear on his powers that he'd never thought about Will that way before his father had suggested it.  
  
(And what was up with that anyway? His father going down on other men - it was too totally gross to dwell on. Parents were supposed to be chaste asexual noneities, not evil queens.)  
  
The silence dragged on and on. Warren closed his eyes and when he opened them again, Will was cross-legged beside him. He smiled into Warren's scowl.   
  
"You know, one time Layla let me do it from behind -"  
  
"I do not want to hear this!" Warren covered his ears and began humming frantically.  
  
"- and I called your name. It was just before we broke up, actually. She'd only been holding on out of stubbornness, she wanted to hear me say it, admit that it was you all the time -"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Make me," said Will. Warren made a fist, a split second too late. Will's mouth was on his, a heady crush of slick hotness with a hint of tongue. Warren felt himself go limp and boneless, opening his mouth for Will, and god, he hoped this didn't make him the bottom -  
  
"Hey," whispered Will, far too soon, "how far-range is your mother's mind-reading ability?"  
  
Warren froze. "Same room." He got to his feet and opened the door. Mrs Peace was hovering innocently outside, the ice in the glasses of soda already half-melted.  
  
"Go," he snarled, feeling his hands begin to heat.  
  
"I'm going," said Mrs Peace. "Oh and honey, please wear a condom. I know you can't get pregnant but -"  
  
"Mom - GO!"  
  
Will was lying on the bed when Warren shut and bolted the door. He was smirking. Feet slowed by uncertainty, Warren half-lay, half-fell beside him, hands clutching at Will's shirtfront. His eyes fell shut and his mouth found Will's on instinct, lightly nuzzling until Will growled and pulled them flush together.  
  
When Warren's jaw ached from kissing and the blood was pounding between his legs, Will paused. "What are your feelings on vegetables?" he asked, taking the opportunity to lick the shell of Warren's ear.  
  
"Good enough for rabbits," said Warren. He sucked in a breath as Will slid his hand beneath Warren's shirt.  
  
"That's what I like to hear." Will smiled and used his super strength to tear off all Warren's clothes in five seconds flat.  
  
There were no pillows on the floor, and no pillow-talk afterwards - but that was mainly because there was no precise afterwards. It was either the benefits of youth, or the fact that superpowers also bestowed hidden super-virility. In either case, Warren was too busy to consider the matter deeply.  
  
His father would be disappointed, but Warren would never make an arch villain. On the other hand, he got a superhero for his bitch. But hey, that was high school.


End file.
